I'm tired. I feel like I might be getting Skylar's cold. We now have a "living dead" clownfish that gave a new twist to the idiom about "fish out of water." I feel like watching Murder She Wrote in the kitchen with Kim, like we did in the early years of our relationship. I feel like microwaving Budget Gourmet "sidedish" meals like macaroni and cheese and spinach au gratin. We have a king size bed, but lately it seems too small. I had fun swimming today. My "side breathing" is in dreadful shape. I want to stay up and finish rearranging my office. I would need to take serious stimulants to do so. The mesquite has recovered from my jealousy-enhanced pruning of a month ago. The monsoon rains have retreated to the mountains. I hope it's only temporary. Kim and Skylar have mosquito bites all over them. I was attacked by fleas, of all things, even though they supposedly don't live here. There are biting ants everywhere. I didn't listen to the Smashing Pumpkins' Siamese Dream for years; now I want to hear it all the time. I didn't get to play basketball yesterday because of the clownfish crisis. I'm antsy. The semester starts tomorrow. My allergies are dreadful. The roof of my mouth is so itchy I want to draw blood with my fingernails. The San Francisco Giants continue to get worse. I'm reconsidering my decision to read Proust, since his prose seems to bring out the tea-sipping dandy in my own. I'm nostalgic for the time -- 1992-1994 -- when I had my own car, even if it was a beat-to-hell 1979 Honda Civic Wagon. I have my ticket to see Destroyer and the New Pornographers. I'm excited to be teaching documentaries. I wonder why my order from Amazon has taken so long to arrive. I love wrapping my hand around a woman's waist and applying the slightest pressure on her far hip. I love cheddar cheese, stoned wheat thins and a Coca-Cola chaser. I wish my friends would call me sometime. I wonder why I don't call them. I need to be left alone. I need a hug. I miss reading Harry Potter. I will feel guilty reading onward without Skylar. But she doesn't want to continue and I can no longer stand to be stuck on the second book. In the absence of rain, the monsoon gives me brutal sinus headaches. I love the way the clouds look this time of year. "French" kissing is underrated and certainly not French. My craving for anchovies is slowly abating. I want black leather Converse like Will Smith wore in I, Robot. I'd be better off getting the politically correct look-alikes that a friend pointed out to me. I love The Loft. I miss the PFA. I wish I were going somewhere besides Boston. I wish Kim were going somewhere with me. I want to make myself custom bookcases. I want to learn Greek. I want to accompany Joel on his trip to Israel. I want Sarah Leah Chase to finally write the Pedaling Through Liguria book she was slated to write after Pedaling Through Provence and Pedaling Through Burgundy. I want to get new inner tubes for the bike I bought off a neighbor three years ago. I want to spend more time in a world without subordinate clauses. I want to go to sleep.